


Bet You Won't

by grahamhannah53



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Feminist Themes, Fluff and Smut, Karstark reader, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 05:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10632795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamhannah53/pseuds/grahamhannah53
Summary: This is a wonderful little tale in which Theon is a has his eyes on the reader, bets are made, and Jon Snow feels slightly neglected. Enjoy(Inspired by a Hamilton quote. It's my first reader-insert, so go easy on me!)





	

Some days, it seemed to (y/n) that being a serving girl would be easier (certainly more fun) than being a lady. Servants had the run of Winterfell, laughing and joking and never being told not to slouch or not to frown so much-- they lived without land, without title, but with great happiness (or at least that was the case at Winterfell.) (Y/n) would give her left pinky toe to speak freely to peers without fear offending someone’s bloody pride, and in all honesty, she would love to send propriety straight back to the hell from which it came.Yes-- most days, (y/n) almost envied the ironic freedom of servants.

Today was not most days.

It was Robb’s seventeenth name day, and Winterfell was buzzing with activity. Servants ran to and fro like so many ants, fetching this, preparing that, and making sure everything was in order for the feast that would take place in the evening. When they were not busy with feast preparation, they were serving the guests, making sure those present for the celebration were afforded every comfort. That in itself was quite a daunting task-- there were so many lords and ladies that (y/n) herself was certain that it was impossible to keep track of them all. 

Fortunately for the serving girls, the young men (either Robb's friends or the sons of his father's friends) were out either hunting, Robb among them, or out at the brothels with the likes of Theon Greyjoy-- it would save the poor girls a great bit of worriation and harassment to have them gone. Smacks to the rear and ribald japes were often aimed at the women who served such young lords, and to (y/n)  it was as awful to watch as she imagined it would be to experience it firsthand.  

However coarse the young lords could be, though, the young ladies, were a curse within themselves. Up the stairs, back down, and then up them again the servants would go, carrying platters of little party pastries for the girls in Sansa Stark’s solar. Who would have thought that gossiping and needlework would be so strenuous that a constant stream of refreshments were required? Given a choice between the two, (y/n) wasn't sure if she'd pick the touches and the japing from the arrogant lords or the snobbish commands issued by pale, delicate, flower-petal ladies. 

(Y/n) herself found the whole situation disagreeable-- even if she hadn't been total and complete rubbish with a needle, she stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other more proper, more beautiful ladies.The mindless chatter was frustrating to (y/n), and the gossip was empty and pointless… and that was all the others fancied themselves capable of. It was all horribly Westerosi of them-- she'd engaged in a lengthy discussion with a Dornish woman some time ago who had told her about many things that Westerosi women would have found preposterous in Dorne, but to (y/n) they made a great deal of sense. Would that Westeros was not so closed-minded…

As she was pondering such, (y/n) rounded a corner in a corridor she was exploring, and found that she wasn't the only one there looking for seclusion. None other than Theon Greyjoy was standing there in all his smirking glory, with not one, not two, but three women-- whores, by the look and smell of them-- hanging off of him like he was the only man alive. Only mildly shocked, (y/n) turned her head for decency’s sake and walked along as she wished. She hoped that she would be given the same respect that she had given the other party by minding her own business, but, unfortunately, she was never that lucky. Instead, as she passed, she could have sworn she heard an offer to join made by one of the whores. 

Her answer to that offer was easily found in the strength with which she slammed the door at the end of the corridor behind her. 

  
  


***

Theon Greyjoy was no stranger to the circumstances of his presence at Winterfell-- he was a whipping boy of sorts. A hostage. A prisoner. 

However, he had to admit that if Winterfell was a prison, then there wasn't a better one in Westeros-- especially not on the birthday of the warden’s son. 

At Robb’s name day feast, Theon had it all-- with a serving girl on his lap and a piece of meat in his mouth, he couldn't be more pleased. As he japed with Robb and the rest, he kissed the girl and fondled her breasts intermittently, making her giggle and squirm, which caused a stir of interest in his family jewels. Only when he felt the disapproving stare of Eddard Stark did Theon (with an eye roll and much reluctance) push the girl from his lap and continue eating and carrying on his conversation with Robb like some sort of civilized creature. 

Funnily enough, Lord Stark’s stare of disapproval wasn't the only one. A few seats down, on the other side of the table, sat a familiar little glass doll giving him a glare for the books. She obviously didn't approve of Theon’s antics at all, however familiar she was with them-- it was almost as if she thought she knew a damn thing about him. In the true Greyjoy fashion, he just winked at her and went back to eating, hoping she was as uncomfortable as she had made him. 

_ It's a shame she's such a prude,  _ he thought as he ate, almost disappointed.  _ I'd bed her in a southron second. _

She really was a lovely girl, even with that nasty glare-- a Karstark, he understood. She had looks as sweet as summertime and claws like a Lannister, to hear Robb tell it. More than likely, she detested Theon already, despite not being well acquainted with him-- probably for his knavish behavior, but Theon liked to think it was because he seemed unattainable to her. Though the former was more likely than the latter, it was still a pleasant distraction, and Theon loved nothing better than pleasant distractions. 

“Something caught your eye there, Theon?” Robb asked with a chuckle as Theon realized he had been staring at the Karstark girl. 

“Something always has my eye,” Theon grinned. “But not always do I have that something's eye.”

Robb caught the hint and leaned up to see. Then, having seen, he laughed heartily and clapped Theon on the back. “She'd kill you in a heartbeat.”

“I'll bed her within the month,” Theon chuckled with false bravado, and perhaps a slight slur. 

“Bet you won't.”

“Oh, it is  _ on _ .”

  
  


***

  
  


(Y/n), tired from the festivities of the night, bid Robb a happy name day and walked away from the feast with every intention to return to her rooms. 

As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Somehow, (y/n) found herself strolling amongst the godswood, staring at their sap faces and wishing she knew what the trees were thinking-- surely they, with their weeping eyes, saw more than (y/n) could ever hope to. 

Often, (y/n) found comfort in the godswood, but every now and then, she would be unsettled by the way the trees seemed to whisper to her in a language of wind and leaves. She wondered what they would say to her if she could understand them, but most of all, she wondered what those red sap eyes saw in her. Did they see a freak? Or did they see her as she felt as lonely, longing for some sign, any sign, of affection?

Frustrated, (y/n) sat on a root and pulled her legs to her chest, internally berating herself for not being the person she was expected to be. Sometimes, she felt as though she were a prisoner, trapped within her own mind. Could she be charming? Of course-- wit and tact made conversation effortless. As a nobleman's daughter, she was the perfect diplomat at every family dinner and special occasion. But did she want to be? Did she really want to live the rest of her life skirting around the messy, the difficult, the controversial things in life? Could she truly accept a fate filled with conversations about the weather?

Somehow, (y/n) didn't think so.

Just when she thought she might drown in those thoughts, (y/n)’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boots crunching leaves and snow. As soon as she stood, the boots that made the noises came into view, and with them their wearer. Theon Greyjoy, of all people, swaggered (albeit slightly drunkenly) into the godswood, wearing his signature smirk. 

(Y/n) prayed not to be noticed. 

The gods must have been on lunch break. 

“Oh-ho, why have we here?” the young Greyjoy chuckled with a rakish grin. “A naughty little lady come to confess her sins?”

“No,” (Y/n) replied a little too quickly. 

Theon snorted, but it wasn't as mocking as she had expected. “Whatever sins you have, they won't be atoned by talking to bark and sap. The trees have eyes to see you, but no ears to hear your prayers, so save them for someone who gives a damn.”

For a slurring drunk, the Ironborn prince made made a lot more sense than he should have. 

“I wasn't confessing anything,” (y/n) replied, choosing her words carefully.

“Not so pious as that, then.” His sea-blue eyes sparkled as he walked forward, growing closer to her with every word. “Pray tell, do you whisper secrets to the trees in hopes they do not tell? Keep in mind, my lady, the trees have mouths.”

(Y/n) wanted to make the point that if they didn't have ears, they couldn't repeat what they couldn't hear, but arguing technicalities with drunks was futile-- she'd tried. 

“What's your aim?” (Y/n) grumbled, folding her arms as Theon leaned in close enough for her to smell the ale on his breath

“Only to keep a lady company. The night is dark and full of terrors, you know,” he winked. 

“When the gods strike you down for sacrilege, I'm not sure whether I will laugh or cry.”

“Oh, the piety has returned,” Theon chuckled. 

“Is everything a jape to you?” (Y/n) demanded, taking a step back from him. 

“Only what I think is worth laughing at.” He stepped forward, and she backed against one of the trees. “Which, my dear, is everything.”

(Y/n) shook her head. “Theon Greyjoy, you disgust me.”

“Ah, so you've discussed me,” he laughed, toying with a strand of her hair. 

(Y/n) was becoming more uncomfortable by the second. “Move. I want to leave.”

Theon put his hand on the bark of the tree, coming even closer. “Why?”

“Theon. Move.”

“Oh, we're on a first name basis now?” 

“Please. Move.” (y/n) gritted her teeth.

“Or what?”

As fast as thought, (y/n)’s foot found its way to Theon’s crotch, and the young kraken yelped in pain as she stepped around him, walking off with her head held high. 

As she left, (y/n) could have sworn she heard laughter in the distance, but elected to ignore it in favor of congratulating herself on effectively evading unwanted drunken advances.

  
  


***

  
  


“I still can't believe she kicked you,” Robb grinned. “I thought I was going to wet myself laughing at you. You're a very poetic drunk, in case you weren't aware.”

“My balls still hurt when I think about it,” Theon groaned. “Honestly, Robb, why did you think it was a good idea to get me up this early? I'm hungover as hell, and I stink. What's so important that I had to skip bathing to be here this early?”

“Nothing. I just enjoy torturing you,” Robb laughed. 

Theon groaned once more, leaning back in his chair, eyeing his food. The idea of boiled eggs for breakfast had his stomach churning in displeasure, and even if he hadn't been hungover, Theon could never stomach food early in the morning. He was about to give in and try to wash down a few bites when a fresh distraction walked into the dining hall.

The Karstark girl he'd (only mildly) harassed the night before walked into the dining hall, and Theon felt himself flush. 

_ Craven,  _ he chided himself.  _ If you were more like Robb, you'd just go right up to her without letting ale do the talking.  _

But where was the fun in being like Robb? Honor wasn't so great, was it? It wasn't honor that women wanted, after all-- just a decent amount of skill with flattery, a reputation for being a little rough around the edges, and a sizable cock was all a man needed in the world of women, and Theon had all of those. 

So why did it feel like wooing (y/n) would be harder than that?

“Theon. Again? Honestly, I thought you had learned your lesson!” Robb teased him, evidently having noticed his staring. “You do know that bet was just a jape, right?”

_ No, don't say that. That was my courage, my excuse in case of failure. _

“No, no, I want to go through with it-- I want her, simply because you seem to think I can't have her.”

Robb gave Theon a half-amused, half-concerned look. “Okay then. Don't come whining to me when she makes a woman of you.”

“Just you wait, Robb Stark. I'll shock all of you bloody shits yet,” Theon grinned. 

He had a plan.

  
  


***

  
  


“Oomph, pardon.”

‘Pardon’ didn't exactly make (y/n) feel any better, since she was knocked completely on her rear with food scraps dumped all over her, and Theon Greyjoy at fault for it all. 

“No matter,” she replied, accepting his offered hand to get to her feet.

“Allow me,” Theon said as he took the plate of food she had been carrying away from her. “I really didn't see you there. My apologies, my lady.”

_ Oh, so now we're playing the noble lord? _ (Y/n) thought, trying with all her might to refrain from rolling her eyes. 

“Really, it's fine.”

“Let me make it up to you,” the Greyjoy smiled innocently. “You're new at Winterfell, yes?”

“Uhm… Yes?” (Y/n) answered, knitting her brows as she tried to figure out what Theon was getting at. 

“Let me give you a tour,” he said, taking one of her hands in his. “I insist. It's the least I can do.”

_ I can't tell if he's serious or if he's mocking me, _ (y/n) puzzled, brows knitting even further.  _ If he's mocking me and I consent, I'll be the fool... but if he isn't mocking and I decline, I'll still be the fool. _

Figuring she could do no worse either way, (y/n) decided to agree. “If.you insist. I must go change out of this dress though-- I'm afraid it's entirely soiled for the day, and I'll need something warmer if we're to go traipsing about outside.”

“As the lady says,” Theon smiled. “I'll be here in anxious wait.”

_ How do I get myself into these things?  _ (Y/n) thought as she walked to her rooms.  _ Surely something horrible is bound to happen. He'll push me off a cliff or feed me to the wolves or something.  _

  
  


***

  
  


“And who is to say that the Dornish don't have the right of it? What makes my knuckle-headed, farts-for-brains brother more suitable than I for rule?” 

_ Nothing-- you're just like Asha,  _ Theon thought, but said nothing. Instead, he shrugged. “Ruling isn't always a winning situation. Sure, it has its perks but it's mostly a pain in the ass.”

“Hm. And I'm sure you would.know,” (y/n) teased.

For about the tenth time, Theon was surprised at how naturally his smile came. Halfway through the tour of Winterfell he'd promised (y/n), they had somehow gotten onto the subject.of politics, which lead to almost an hour’s worth of debate over gender roles in Westeros as opposed to other.places. Such subjects were not usually something he was interested in, but talking with this charismatic young woman was easy and alarmingly addictive. He had never had so much fun in his life, even if his side of the debate was only half-formed and mostly backed by flimsy excuses for evidence. Just hearing such a sweet voice rip apart his arguments was worth it all. In fact, Theon was beginning to think that getting her knickers in a twist might be even  _ more _ fun than trying to get her knickers off.

“You know, I may be beginning to like you, my lord.”

That caught Theon off guard, but as he looked into (e/c) eyes, he saw playful sincerity shining out. 

_ Huh. That's weird.  _

“Don't speak too soon,” he chuckled. “You don't know the bear until you live in a cave with him.”

“Or the kraken, I assume.”

“Precisely.”

“So what does that suggest?” (Y/n) inquired playfully. “How can I know if I like you?”

“Why that suggests that to know me, you should come up to my rooms and let me show you a bit of my nature,” he winked. 

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. “Perhaps I did speak too soon.”

  
  


***

  
  


Three days. 

It had been three days since the tour of Winterfell, and (y/n) and Theon had grown closer every second of those days. On the third night, as (y/n) layed in bed, she reviewed the events in her mind, if for no other reason than to make sure she hadn't dreamt it all. 

_ “Must you always be so bitter?”  _ she had asked him one day after he expressed his discontent at Winterfell.  _ “If anything, you should be grateful to Lord Stark for raising you as one of his own. He does seem to love you, and Robb sees you as a brother.” _

_ “I will never be a Stark,”  _ Theon had snapped. “ _ They have made sure that I know that. I am out of place here, but I don't belong anywhere else either. My home is the Iron Islands, but I don't even know my family anymore, or even if I can even call them that. And could I even really love a father that gave me away like some sort of toy he was tired of playing with?”  _ The pain in his eyes had acted as a knife in (y/n)’s chest, and she took one of Theon’s large, calloused hands in her own smaller ones. 

_ What could he have been thinking, to tell me such deep things about himself?  _ she wondered.  _ How long had he kept that locked inside, letting it fester? _

That wasn't the only deep conversation they'd had either-- (y/n) had surprised herself by revealing to Theon some of her innermost thoughts. Her pain, her insecurity, her self-doubt and desire for independence-- these he now knew. Things she has sworn she'd never tell anyone, (y/n) had revealed to Theon Greyjoy, the most shamelessly immoral member of the Stark family. 

But he wasn't quite that, was he? 

Theon was so much more. 

He loved music-- any song that one could think of, Theon had memorized, and he had a beautiful voice… it wasn't deep like thunder, but it was sweet and smooth, and (y/n) loved to listen to him humming when he thought she wasn't listening. Theon was also quite aware of the struggles women in Westeros faced, and even sympathized with them as often as not.

Theon was different. He was as kind as he was handsome, and he was as witty as he was strong-- (y/n) saw now why women threw themselves at him. Who wouldn't want someone so real, so three-dimensional?

_ You don't know him like you think you do _ , a little voice in (y/n)’s head whispered.  _ Jon does. Jon says he's cruel. _

It was true. The two had only just met, and (y/n) and Jon had known each other longer… Jon  _ lived _ with Theon, so he should know the Greyjoy inside and out. But if Theon was afraid for his reputation, then he certainly wouldn't show anything that could be counted as weakness to Jon, and there was enmity between them anyway, since they were both striving for Lord Stark's attention and affection. No, Jon would be biased about anything Theon-related, then. 

(Y/n) tossed beneath her blankets, wishing she could sleep. Asleep, she couldn't worry about handsome kraken boys or trust issues. Asleep, there was no insecurity. Asleep, she was safe. 

  
  


***

  
  


“C’mon, sit with us. Snow will live a day talking to someone else.”

Theon wasn't sure whose expression was funnier-- Jon’s, Robb’s, or (y/n)’s. All three had various displays of shock, and Jon even looked a little angry. 

It was almost funny enough to take the edge off of his fear of rejection. 

Almost. 

“Why?” (Y/n) raised a brow, shaking off the shock. “So I can watch you bounce a whore on either knee?”

“No, so I can bounce you on both my knees,” Theon smirked, almost out of habit. 

There was a brief moment of indecision, but eventually, (y/n) took her seat in front of him, and Theon smiled in triumph as Jon looked away in defeat. 

Theon wasn't sure what the conversation was, or how it started, but once (y/n) got on a roll, there was no stopping her. She talked and talked, and to Theon, there was no one else in the hall. He was enraptured, watching her go on and on-- she didn't see the stares from around the hall, didn't see any judgment, didn't see anything but whatever her mind was working on, but Theon wished she would notice him, just for a moment-- for if she did, she would surely know that he was completely enamored with her. 

_ Great job, Greyjoy. You're getting attached, just like you said you wouldn't. _

But in that moment, Theon couldn't care less about attachment or past commitments. All that mattered was the shine of those (e/c) eyes from across the table, and the fact that (y/n)’s smile was meant just for him. 

  
  


***

  
  


Nothing was worse to (y/n) than watching Robb, Theon, and Jon training together, not because she was afraid they'd get hurt, but because she was afraid they'd  _ want _ to hurt one another. All three were prone to passion, and their egos bruised more easily than Sansa had as a child-- they were hopeless when it came to anger management. So, understandably, (y/n) was a bit nervous when Jon asked her to spectate.

“I dunno…”

Jon rolled his eyes. “You haven't spent any time with me at all this visit for hanging out with  _ Theon _ . That's all I ever hear out of you anymore. The least you could do is come cheer me on.”

(Y/n) sighed. “That's not true. We went to market together last week, and we sat watching the stars just the other night.”

“And what did you do with Theon all week?” Jon crossed his arms, stubborn as a Stark.

“Oh my-- fine,” (y/n) humphed. “But if you start doing stupid shit, I'm leaving.”

“Fair enough.”

In all honesty, it went about as well as (y/n) expected.

“You jabbed me in the bloody ribcage!” 

“Oh, I'm sorry that I injured the maiden fair that bashed me in the face with the butt of her sword!”

“Guys, what are you, two and ten?”

“ **_Shut up, Robb!_ ** ”

After about an hour, the boys called it quits, all of them irritable enough to forget she was there-- all except Theon, who stopped to talk while Robb and Jon walked off, arguing about some point or other.

“You've been awfully quiet this whole time.”

“Well, I could hardly talk to you three,” (y/n) laughed. 

“I didn't really think that through, did I?” Theon chuckled, his neck reddening.

“You did well today, you know. You're really fast.” (Y/n) smiled, hoping he would see the sincerity of her compliment and forget his embarrassment.

“Thanks.” Theon beamed. “Say, I was wondering, if you were hungry… Want to catch a snack with me? I have this place I want to show you, if you're up for a little adventure.”

“Sure,” (y/n) replied. “On one condition.”

“What's that?”

“Bathe first.” 

Theon shook his head with a chuckle. “Women are cruel.”

  
  
  


***

  
  


“Theon, for the last time, I will not go hunting with you,” (y/n) laughed, (e/c) eyes shining with mirth. “I wouldn't even know what to do with myself!”

“You could just ride along in front of me,” Theon suggested, only half-joking. “Warm me up a bit and all. A man gets cold in all the wind and snow.”

The blush that ensued was anything but subtle-- (y/n) turned red from her ears to the top of her breasts, but Theon only found it endearing. He was beginning to be a little frightened of how strong the lustful pull he had for her was, and how his feelings had grown with it. Before, he had only mildly toyed with the thought of fucking her, or how her hands would(n't) fit around his cock, how her eyes might stare up at him whole her mouth was stretched wide around his member...but now he imagined how he would make her scream with his head between her thighs and her hands in his hair. He imagined lacing his hands in her hair, stroking the skin of her stomach-- all terribly intimate things that Theon wasn't sure he was ready to do to or with anyone. 

The best thing about imagining, however, was that he didn't know whether she would be soft and sweet or rough and demanding-- everything was left up to interpretation. Would she be tender and delicate, sighing at every touch? Would she growl and scratch like an animal? Or would she   not make a sound for locking their lips together? It was the not knowing that was the most intriguing, and he chased every thought of it like a madman. 

It had only been a few weeks, and he was mad about her.

“Or maybe you could stay in for once,” (y/n) laughed, shoving his chest.

“And have the guys laugh at me?” Theon chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. “No thanks. What would we even do inside anyway? It’s not like there's anything terribly interesting to do.”

“Cyvasse?” 

“We played that yesterday when we ate bread and honey on the roof.”

(Y/n) giggled. “Or we could play the Lord and the Maid, like children.”

“I'll compromise,” Theon laughed. “I'll go hunting, but return home feeling ‘ill.’ Then, we can play the Lord and the Maid, complete with you drawing a bath for me and rubbing the warmth back into my bones.”

“Deal,” (y/n) winked.

Theon swayed.

_ Oh. _

(Y/n) snorted. “Don't look so shocked. I'm still a little girl at heart.”

Theon had meant it as a jape, truly he had, but now that she was offering, who was he to refuse? 

“Well then, I guess I'll see you after my hunt.”

“Come back safe,” she smiled, opening her arms to embrace him. 

“Always.”  _ I couldn't die if I tried. And believe me, I've tried. _

  
  


***

  
  


_ Why did I do that? I'm an idiot. _

(Y/n) paced Winterfell like a caged tiger, waiting anxiously for Theon’s return.

_ Because you want to touch his entire body with a warm rag _ , a voice in the back of her head answered.

“Shut up,” she told it aloud.

“What? And I've only just returned!”

(Y/n) whirled around to see Theon, standing in all his snow-soaked glory.

“Oh, I didn't see you.”

“Where's that bath we talked about earlier? Surely you hadn't forgotten it,” he teased with a wink. 

“I had the water delivered to you rooms only a few moments ago. Should be just about the right temperature now,” she smiled, fighting against her blush. 

“Let's hop to it then, shall we?”

Together, they ascended the stairs, and (y/n) wondered what she’d gotten herself into. 

  
  


***

  
  


Theon had never been treated so gently and with so much care in all his life. 

True to her word, (y/n) had cleaned every inch of him--  _ every _ inch. His scalp still tingled from her hands massaging it, and as he lay in bed, waiting for her to return with a platter of food, he felt as though he could melt into the mattress. 

“I’ll have you know that you're the most spoiled lord in the seven kingdoms, if I'm any judge,” (y/n) laughed as she entered with the food. “The servants will be asking questions, you know.”

“Lay with me,” Theon yawned, patting the bed next to him. 

“I'm not sure that's entirely appropria--”

“Do you want me to feed you grapes or  not?”

Without another word, she layed down beside him, snuggling into the warmth of his furs. 

(Theon thought to mention that all propriety had been abandoned when she'd washed between his legs, but he ultimately decided against it.)

Years ago, when Eddard Stark had told Theon that he had an addictive personality, he didn't believe that at all. Now, in light of recent events, he was beginning to reconsider. As Theon hand-fed (y/n), feeling her lips close around his fingers, he knew he could never go back. He had to have her, and the possibility that she might refuse him scared the living shit out of him. 

  
  


_ *** _

  
  


_ “ _ (Y/n). Theon Greyjoy is an  _ ass _ .”

“ _ Jon!” _

“It's true.” The dark-haired Snow folded his arms. “I'm looking out for you here. I've seen this time and time again with every woman he's been with-- it's just taken a long time with you.”

“Look, I know you don't get along, and I know you have reason to hate him, but can't you even entertain the idea that he might have good intentions?” (Y/n) asked, grabbing his arm. “He has been very sweet to me--”

“--to anything in a corset--” Jon snorted.

“--And I think that sweetness isn't as much of a front as you think it is.”

“Fine. S’your heart.”

“Who says my heart is in it?” (Y/n) demanded, hands on hips. 

“No one has to. The way you look at him says it all.”

_ Ouch _ . 

Jon sighed, raking a hand through his inky curls. “I'm not worried about whether or not he's genuine, (y/n). Even if he is, he'll hurt you. Not because he's broken or damaged or misled, but because it's fun for him to hurt others in order to hurt himself.”

(Y/n) shook her head. “I doubt that's the case, Jon. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing what you think is right in trying to protect me, but I make my own decisions. When you're proved right, I give you leave to tell me you told me so.”

“Women.” Jon threw his hands in the air. “Can't tell them a bloody thing.”

  
  


***

  
  


They were laughing so hard that Theon could hardly catch his breath. Maybe that had more to do with the running than the laughter, though. He couldn't even remember why they were laughing  _ or  _ running, but it felt so good just to be  _ free _ . (Y/n)’s laughter on the wind gave him life, made his whole body warm from his head to his feet, despite the snow. 

Theon couldn't remember a time when he was happier.

When they finally stopped, they collapsed into a ball of giggles and snow, their legs and arms tangled to the point that Theon couldn't tell what belonged to whom.

“Oh gods, that was hilarious,” (y/n) wheezed. “Theon, I can't breathe, get off me, you oaf.”

It was then that they came face to smiling face-- the moment was so perfect, so sublime, that Theon just had to do something to ruin it. 

He kissed her.

For a fleeting moment, there was panic, regret, terror, and then she was kissing him back and all was well. Theon no longer felt the sopping wet cold or the shaking in his hands-- he was in heaven. 

“I want you.”

“Then take me.”

“Where?” Theon’s question was gasping, desperate.

“Your rooms. Go, go, let's get.out of here,” (y/n) breathed.

And so they did.

  
  


***

  
  


As Theon’s beard scraped against the inner part of her thigh, (y/n) was in ecstasy. Her hands twisted harshly in the heather-soft hair that she had washed not so many days before and brought Theon’s mouth up to her own. 

“You don't kiss like a virgin,” he rasped, his hands trailing from her breasts down her sides, sending sparks.up her spine. 

“I said I was a virgin, not a child. Shut up and fuck me. I wanna know if.you have any tentacles down there.”

  
  


***

  
  


“No, God, let me sleep,” Theon groaned. “You insatiable shit.”

“You said to wake you before I left,” (y/n) chuckled, kissing his brow. “I can't be found here, you know.”

“Why not?”

“Propriety.”

“I hate propriety.”

(Y/n) laughed softly. “I know.”

“Stay a few minutes more?”

“Go back to sleep, Thee.”

“Ugh.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Moon tea?” Jon asked skeptically, raising a brow. “For what?”

(Y/n) folded her arms. “For precautionary measures, that's what.”

“But why do  _ I  _ have to get it?”

“It looks better that way!”

“Damn it, I told you that you were going to get hurt.” Jon’s eyes were full of pain. “You did it, didn't you? You had sex with Theon.”

“Yes,” (y/n) humphed indignantly. “Why?”

“It was a bet.”

“What was a bet?” A knot began to form in (y/n)’s stomach.

_ Certainly not, not after everything… _

“Robb told me yesterday evening that he bet Theon he couldn't bed you before the month was out.”

Something inside of (y/n) shattered at that, and she decided that Theon Greyjoy would know the wrath of woman this day. 

“Fine. I'll show him how badly he lost that bet.”

  
  


***

  
  


The doors to the dining hall were flung open so violently that they slammed against the wall. So startled was Theon by the sudden crash that he nearly spilled his drink. However concerning the noise was, the person that had made it concerned him infinitely more.

(Y/n) was striding toward him, more angry than he had ever seen her. So intense was the heat of her glare that Theon wondered how his skin wasn't peeling off bit by bit the closer she got.

“You sick, slimy, insufferable  _ bastard, _ ” she growled as she approached, grabbing a chalice from the table. “You, Theon Greyjoy, are fucking  _ despicable _ .”

_ Oh shit _ .

With all her might, she threw the chalice as Jon called out “Rude,” from across the room. Thankfully, the chalice bounced safely off of the table and not off of Theon’s skull, but it had been a near miss.

Now, usually, Theon knew what he had done to deserve such a reaction, but all he could do was watch in genuine cluelessness. As far as Theon knew, he and (y/n) were on stellar terms. In fact, he had expected the exact opposite greeting from her. She certainly wasn't complaining the night before.

“You played me,” she snarled,marching on him like a she-demon. “You pretended to respect me, befriend me, just to bed me to win a  _ bet, _ you sick fuck. You  _ lied _ to me.”

“No, (y/n), it wasn't like that--”

“Wasn't like  _ what _ ?” She snapped. “Wasn't like you're a fraud? Wasn't like you used me to prove a point?”

“No, it wasn't--”

She slapped him. The blow was enough to make his ears ring.

“I wasn't finished.” Her voice cracked, and Theon felt like he might puke. “It was all an act, the pain, the brokenness-- and I believed every lie you sold me.”

Theon out his hands up. “Look, I know what it sounds like, but--”

“But  _ what _ ?”

Theon drew back.  _ Oh hell no.  _

“Calm down,” he commanded, using his most princely voice.

“No.” (Y/n)’s eyes were smoldering brimstone, and Theon made his decision.

“Fine.”  _ We'll do this my way. _

Theon was aware of every eye on them in the hall as he slung (y/n) over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and into the corridor outside.

When they were well alone, he roughly yanked her down and pressed her back against the wall, gripping her thighs to his sides.

“Listen to me, my lady,” Theon grunted as (y/n) struggled. “I am Ironborn. As we say,  _ We do not sow _ , which implies that we reap. It's in my blood to take what I want, my darling and what I want is  _ you,  _ so I took you. I didn't take you because of some bet. I didn't decide to make you mine for a challenge-- I did so because I  _ wanted  _ you.”

“I'm not yours to take,” she replied, thrashing against him. “I am no man’s.”

“You are mine,” he argued, pinning her more firmly. “As I am yours.”

Silence.

“Nothing to say to that one, smartass?” Theon chuckled darkly. “I was yours from that night in the godswood. I was so fucking drunk that I couldn't see straight, but when I saw you, everything became lucid, and I was lost. From then I knew for sure that I wanted you-- all of you. Your body, your mind, your soul, but mostly, I wanted your heart. So I set out to make you want me as much as I want you. You cannot tell me that I did not succeed.”

Finished with his defense, Theon sat (y/n) gently on her feet and backed away.

“If you don't want me… If I have judged this incorrectly… Tell me, and I'll forget this ever happened.”

The ensuing silence was like.a knife to the gut, but still he endured.

It was only until he saw the tears that he broke, wiping one away. 

“Oh, my angel…”

“Do you deny the bet?” (Y/n) asked hoarsely, eyes red and cheeks puffy.

“I don't deny it.”

More maddening, deafening silence.

Then, “Theon?”

“Yes?”

“Will you hold me?”

“Always.”  _ I can never say no to you.  _

“I want this,” she cried into his chest. “I want us, I want you.”

“Then you have me,” Theon assured her, holding her closer. “You will always have me.”

 

The End

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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